Happy Mother’s Day to all. It was a beautiful day here, sunny with puffy clouds here and there. I woke up thinking of my wonderful mom who passed in 1997 from colon cancer and then thinking of my two sisters, both moms. I am the only one of the three of us without children. We talked with Marvin’s mom before heading out for late breakfast with a friend and then spending the rest of the day on projects, part fun and part necessity. It was a satisfying conclusion to a tiring week.
After battering myself about why I should have been so exhausted following this week, it finally struck me. It was an emotional exhaustion. I had to complete a variety of paperwork that asked a lot of questions about my cancer. I have decided that I don’t just feel uncomfortable with that; I hate it. The reason I hate it is that I spend most of my time ignoring this blasted disease; I just pretend it is not happening. I am not in denial as I know exactly what is going on, but I choose to hold onto the great moments of life that exclude this stupid disease. And, I choose to think about them instead of the moments of discomfort. Questions in the paperwork that asked whether I have a disease that will result in my death made me want to run away and hide; that’s the 12-year-old me that fights reality.
It made me realize that when I dream, I never dream about the me now with mets who wobbles around with a walker. I dream in the body I used to have, sturdy and steady, strong and energetic and with a memory that worked well at retaining faces, names, numbers, poems and dance steps.
I can move forward now that I have confronted some unpleasant thoughts and managed to get by with only a bit of discomfort. I have also acknowledged that it is all right to detest this disease and to use whatever juicy words I choose to cast it to the wind.
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